


When the Sun Rises, My Heart Swells

by TeapotPrince



Category: Carry On- Rainbow Rowell
Genre: ALOT OF PINING, Fluff, M/M, No Magic AU, Pining, Pre-Book: Carry On, does Baz pining and suffering count as fluff?, i guess? its fluff?, sort of...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 02:11:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13066965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeapotPrince/pseuds/TeapotPrince
Summary: Baz can't sleep and Simon is distressingly beautiful even with drool on his face.





	When the Sun Rises, My Heart Swells

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is... my first completed fic... ever...  
> I am extremely nervous to post this because I don't usually share my writing and as mentioned before this is my first fic, so please,, treat me gently. It probably is a complete uncohesive mess plus I also am a terrible proof reader and self editor so this could go sideways REALLY quick. The tags (or lack thereof) are also a mess because I don't really know what I'm doing but I'm here now!
> 
> I've always wanted to write fic but I never was able to bring myself to type the words i wanted to convey but I recently reread Carry On and fell in love with it all over again and I was just ITCHING to write them. So here's 1k words of Baz being a sap and pining because relatable. Apologies of something sounds wonky I have the worse memory when it comes to canon :^( This was meant to be apart of a modern au/no magic au which explains why Baz has insomnia instead of gallivanting in the catacombs
> 
> Enjoy!

Simon Snow was possibly, the most awful thing to happen to my existence. I’m not even sure if I’m exaggerating at this point. Everything about Snow was so blindingly radiant that once you were in his orbit you couldn’t help but to be pulled to him. To make matters worse, the things that Snow does by just living, causes earthquakes to happen in my chest.

For that, I instinctively want to drive the nearest sharp object through my skull every time I see Snow smile so the tremors in my chest will be forced to cease. It has been so many years. So many painful, excruciating years of having to look at Snow. 3 even more torturous years of stealing glances at Snow’s lips and trying to repress feeling like a besotted maiden each time he jokingly shoves my shoulder or accidentally brushes his hand against mine. It’s those said lips that are currently drooling all over his pillow and it’s almost pathetic how I somehow find that endearing. Snow is fast asleep, eyes shut, mouth ajar, his body curled in on himself with his hands clutched at the edges of his pillow. He has swaddled himself in blankets but I can still see the defined curves of his neck and collarbone from where his shirt has ridden downwards. I can all but sigh from across the room in my own bed as I absently stare at his sleeping form, the nest of blankets gently rising and falling with each passing breath.

The room is slowly being illuminated by the first rays of light and I have been awake for hours. Completely unable to fall into a peaceful rest. It isn’t unusual that I haven’t slept, there are countless days where I lie in bed awake, staring at the ceiling after giving up on trying to sleep. On sleepless nights like this I try to distract myself, lose myself in studies or by counting each new freckle on Snow’s stupidly perfect face. Snow thinks I stay up plotting some villainous deed and has spent many a night to prove this fact (which usually ends up with him watching me do my algebra homework). I called him out for it once.

_“You must really enjoy looking at my face Snow to miss out on your beauty sleep”_

_“You’re always up to something Baz, I’m just finding out what it is that you’re up to”_

In fifth year he followed me everywhere, convinced himself that I was trying to sabotage his entire school career. He was obsessed with me and I was obsessed with him, in an entirely different way.

Snow looks even more angelic as the sun continues to rise. Warm, yellow light streaming in through the curtains and falling across his face. His already golden curls are bathed in gold and now I can see more clearly the pink bow of his lips and the glow of his tan skin. I sometimes let myself imagine what it would be like to lay next to Snow, where his arms would wrap around me and where his mouth would press soft kisses to my face. I let myself imagine and each and every time it feels like I’ve been set on fire. I put my own fingers to my lips and my other hand clenches a fist. The universe must be out for me to give me something that I so desperately want and yet have it so out of my reach. It’s embarrassing how many times I’ve thought about how he would lean into my hand as I caress his cheek, how he would card his hands through my hair or how I would just jump his bones if he asked.

I hear Snow mumble something which knocks me out of my reverie. He isn’t awake yet but he burrows himself further into his fortress of fabric until all I can see of him is his mop of curls. I mourn the loss of the sight of his skin and the peaceful look on his face. Mornings like these are the only times I can freely appreciate how unfairly attractive Snow and the only times where I can see Snow at peace in my presence. When awake he usually has his brows furrowed and mouth upturned in a frustrated pout around me to which I usually respond with a raised brow of my own or a cheeky sneer. No wonder he thinks I’m a villain since I keep retaliating like some sort of cartoon antagonist.

Time passes, and Snow begins to stir. Slowly grasping at consciousness as he wakes. I take this as a cue to get up. I take a shower and try to wash away the thoughts of Snow and the memories of his skin. When I come out of the shower Snow is sitting up, one arm stretched over his head and the other haphazardly covering his mouth as he yawns. His eyes are barely open, still trying to blink away the sleep, eyelashes fluttering. I’m trying to gather my things for the oncoming school day but Snow keeps stretching and the sounds he makes as he moves is borderline obscene and it is beyond distracting. His arms flop down beside him and he sits there in a dazed state. I steal glances at him as I pack my books and I want to tell him how beautiful he looks. How beautiful he is in the early sunlight. He just looks so ethereal that I want to kiss him stupid but what comes out of my mouth is,

“Wipe that drool off your face, it’s disgusting” He still does have drool on his face but it’s disgustingly adorable. His face immediately sours and I can already tell that he looks more guarded than he did from before I opened my stupid mouth.

“Why don’t you wipe that look of your face, now that’s disgusting” he drawls as he wipes away the sliver of saliva on his face. His voice is still rough from sleep and I can feel my heart doing back-flips from the sound of it. His comeback is lacklustre and I tell him so. We’re back to ‘normal’ now. I push, he pushes back. Two impossibly stubborn forces colliding with each other in contempt. Jabs and insults ricocheting off each other in casual banter. I try to forget the fact that my heart turns on like a jack hammer when he laughs so it feels less painful. I try to forget the slope of his Adam’s apple. I try to forget about the moles on his neck and how I want to kiss each and every one. I try to forget how I feel about Snow, about _Simon_. I try to forget but it’s so hard to forget when he’s like the Sun and I’ve already been burned.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Hope this wasn't too much of a tragedy for my first fic... Sorry if there were any mistakes, it is late and I am distraught :^)  
> If you feel compelled to please comment!


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